


Dragon Ball Z: A New Beginning

by ncfwhitetigress



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:05:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfwhitetigress/pseuds/ncfwhitetigress
Summary: After the Frieza Saga, Bulma and Vegeta fall in love on Earth.





	1. Little White Lies

**Dragon Ball Z: A New Beginning**

Chapter 1: Little White Lies

Author's Note: This fic takes place after Goku defeats Frieza on Namek and disappears in space.

**DECEMBER 24, 762**

Cheers echoed through the trees. King Kai had just told Bulma the news on Namek and she had immediately relayed it to all the others present. At first, she felt great joy from the tyrant’s downfall, but then Yamcha, through King Kai, delivered the devastating news that Goku had not escaped the planet’s explosion. Bulma’s happiness wrested in her heart as she lowered her head and sank down to the ground.  _ “Oh… oh, no…” _ she uttered despairingly below her breath.

Gohan walked over to Bulma and pulled on her sleeve to get her attention. “What is it, Bulma?”

A tear ran down her cheek. “It’s your dad, Gohan. He couldn’t escape the planet in time. But it’s worse than that. King Kai says he and Krillin can’t be wished back with any of the dragon balls because they both died on Namek. If we wish them back, they would materialize in the empty space where Namek used to be and then die all over again!” she said, bursting into tears.

Gohan gasped and jerked backward as tears welled up in his eyes. “What? Oh, no! Daddy!”

Before anything more could be said, a deep rasping voice suddenly startled them both. “Stupid humans!” Vegeta taunted them from his seated perch against a tree. He soon gained the attention of all present. “Not only are you weak and emotional, but you’re also blithering idiots!”

Gohan wiped his tears away, seething inwardly that Vegeta had returned to provoke them yet again. He stepped forward to face Vegeta, hiding his fear behind an expression of anger. “You leave us alone, Vegeta! We haven’t done anything to you, you big bully!” he charged.

Vegeta scoffed and bitterly said, “Don’t get me started on that, brat.” The pure-blooded saiyan rose and Gohan jumped back in fear, running to hide behind Bulma. The boy still had a black eye from their fight earlier and he was not keen on a second beating. The prince sneered at him. “Too bad you’re half human, shrimp. Otherwise, you might not be such a coward.”

“Don’t call him names, Vegeta. He’ll grow up to be bigger than you someday!” Bulma snapped at him, taking a precautionary step back. “And we humans may be weaker than saiyans, but we are not stupid! Unlike you barbaric dolts, we know better than to shun our feelings and we take care of our own. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that you’d killed your own mother!”

Vegeta shot forward at blinding speed, halting with his nose a fraction of an inch from Bulma’s. Bulma shrieked and jumped back. _“You…”_ he hissed, snatching her by the vest. “You know absolutely _nothing_ of my parents’ death. Hold your tongue, wench!” He threw her at Gohan, who caught her before she could hit the ground. The boy examined her to ensure she was uninjured and turned back to Vegeta to tell him off. “Shut up, brat!” the prince snapped before turning his attention back to the female. “One more thing, woman. If you humans possess such an immense number of brain cells, then how is it even remotely possible not one of them has discovered that Kakarott and his cueball pal can simply be wished to Earth’s check-in station with the Namekian dragon balls first to avoid materializing them in outer space?” he snapped. After he had finished throwing his weight around and glaring daggers at the blue-haired woman for insulting him, the saiyan prince snorted and turned away from them to angrily stomp off into the forest again.

“Wait!” Bulma cried. Vegeta froze solid in his tracks. “That’s… that’s brilliant! Vegeta, you’re a genius!” She jumped to her feet and started skipping around. “Woohoo! Goku’s coming home!” Vegeta turned his head to examine Bulma’s lunacy, which he deemed worrisome. He saw fit to get away from her annoying cheers as Gohan and the others joined in. They all danced around in the grass. Vegeta rolled his eyes, cursing himself for bringing them any degree of happiness. The spiky-haired saiyan shrugged off the concern and sprinted at light speed into the forest.

Meanwhile, Bulma, Gohan, and the others continued to dance in glee. Most were unaware of the saiyan prince’s departure, though Gohan did stop for a moment to raise a brow in surprise at the random act of (apparently unintentional) kindness coming from someone who had beaten him up no more than an hour ago and laughed at Goku’s expected demise. The young half-saiyan scratched his head. “Hm,” he thought aloud, shrugging his shoulders at the puzzling behavior.

“Come on, guys! We had better get to Capsule Corp so we can get settled,” Bulma announced. “I’ll go call my dad and tell him where to pick us up!” The young genius retreated behind a few trees to make the phone call as Gohan and the Namekians continued to celebrate in her absence. Figuring out coordinates, Bulma and her father discovered that West City was a good distance south from where Porunga had dropped them all off. Though they had to wait a while, the time went by fast with excited conversation as young Namekians played in the background. Within a few hours, Bulma looked up and spotted her father’s airship approaching on the horizon.

…

**DECEMBER 27, 762**

Everything settled down about three days after Frieza’s defeat. Once the Briefs family had helped the Nameks get comfortable in their new temporary home at Capsule Corp, all they had left to do was wait for the dragon balls to glow again. That would only take a little over four months since a Namekian year was shorter than an Earth year. Bulma soon found she had the time and energy to ponder on other matters. _I wonder what happened to His Royal Assness,_ she thought as she tinkered with a new invention of hers called the Psychotron. If only she could get it to work, it would revolutionize treatments for PTSD worldwide. She reconnected a few wires and ran another test, only then realizing that the mind readings of her simian subjects were even more off than they had been before. “Damn it!” she bellowed, kicking the heavy metal device. She cried out in pain and hopped around as she held onto her throbbing foot. The monkeys went nuts in their cages, but the dishwasher-sized machine itself appeared to be perfectly fine.

“I’ll get it working,” she told herself out loud after the pain had eased. Her project did little to suppress her thoughts about the missing saiyan. Soon enough, Bulma found herself unable to rid such thoughts from her mind. They distracted her from her work, so she backed away from the Psychotron and sighed. She looked up through a window and snorted. “Regardless of his motivations, he did save my friends on Namek, as well as Goku and Krillin by thinking up that check-in station idea. He’s a human bein… well… he’s a person and I suppose he deserves a civilized place to live. Ooh, I know! I’ll go find him. I’m sure I can backtrack and find the coordinates where Dad picked us up three days back. If I use that old saiyan scouter, it should not take too long to come upon that spike-haired dork. Now, where did I put that thing…?”

…

**DECEMBER 28, 763**

The next morning, Bulma filled one of her pockets with a pack of supply capsules. She packed a gun in the other pocket as a precaution against wild beasts and bandits. Wearing the scouter, she set off on a hovercycle and headed back to the forest clearing where the Namekian dragon had deposited everyone a week before. It turned out to be much farther away than she remembered as it took her three-and-a-half hours to get there. The climate was much warmer at the location, which lay nearer to the Earth’s equator. She glanced at her watch. It was just past noon, eight or so hours before nightfall. She encapsulated her hovercycle and glanced around. In her mind, she re-created the scene from a week back. Using that information, she was able to come up with a rough estimate of the direction Vegeta had disappeared in. She faced in that direction with the scouter and pressed the button on the side. Indeed, there did appear to be a very high power level off in the distance. Unfortunately, due to the thickness of the forest, she knew she would have to go on foot to find him. A few broken twigs and boot prints here and there provided evidence of where the destructive male had likely gone. Bulma followed the trail deep into the forest.

Five hours later, Bulma crawled miserably through the woods on hands and knees, panting like a dog with heatstroke. He seemed to be moving farther away. Either that or the scouter itself was malfunctioning. She had no one else around to use to re-calibrate the damn thing and she had long since lost the visible trail in the forest. Pushing aside the thick green foliage, Bulma grunted in frustration. Once she reached a small clearing, she stopped and glanced around. The patch was unexpected as the forest had been incredibly dense up until then. Bulma felt her stomach growl, which reminded her that she had brought food capsules with her. She was about to take one out when she caught a whiff of something that could only be described as raw and totally putrid. Her appetite vanished in an instant. Something had to have died nearby. “Yuck! What in the hell is that?” Bulma exclaimed, waving a hand around in the humid air to repel the offensive odor.

Her curiosity won out, so she decided to follow the smell. True to her suspicion, a dead animal did appear shortly through the thicket. It was a very large dinosaur, its rotting innards exposed and spewed across the forest floor. Flies buzzed around the unfortunate creature’s lifeless eyes. Holding a bandana to her nose, Bulma neared the creature to try and assess the cause of its death. It looked like it had been attacked, partially eaten, and then left to die in the wilderness. The situation was puzzling given that the tyrannosaurus rex topped the food chain in these parts. What could have attacked and eaten such a mighty beast? Leaning forward to examine it, Bulma suddenly heard a highly-menacing voice from behind her. “Get your own, puny human!”

Bulma jumped around and yelped in surprise. Vegeta had his right hand extended over his head. The palm of his hand was gathering energy to destroy what he thought was just a greedy little thief. But the moment he beheld her face, a look of surprise flashed across his own and the ball of energy dissipated. _“You?”_ Vegeta blurted, raising a thick eyebrow. He slowly lowered his hand and powered down, curious to find out why the blue-haired woman was present. “What do you want, woman? And why are you trying to steal my food?” the saiyan spat angrily.

Bulma noted the enormous bloody rib he was holding in his left hand. It could only belong to the T-Rex. She saw the blood on his face and felt herself gag. She looked back at the dead dinosaur and then at Vegeta again. “Are you serious? You would have to be either crazy or stupid to think I would _ever_ eat something like that!” she roared, pointing with disgust at the carcass. Vegeta’s eyes widened again at the bold insult delivered him by one weak and pathetic Earthling. Bulma grinned in satisfaction at the prince’s shocked expression. She had not even gotten started yet. “You saiyans are disgusting barbarians!” she screamed loud enough to make him wince.

To her displeasure, though, the accusation only seemed to amuse the saiyan once his ears had recovered from the shrill noise. He smirked at her and tore off a huge chunk of bloody meat from the rib with his razor-sharp teeth. Bulma gulped, suppressing another gag reflex, and stepped back. Vegeta’s actions reminded her of Goku’s boyish antics back when they were kids. He had sometimes eaten worms just to gross her out. Yamcha joined in later and ate crickets to make her run away screaming. The memories gave Bulma the overwhelming urge to throttle the rude saiyan male, but she realized such an action would not benefit her health wise. “Answer my first question, wench,” Vegeta commanded all of a sudden, startling her out of her thoughts.

“Not before you answer mine!” Bulma retorted, glaring at him. Vegeta raised an eyebrow again, so Bulma placed her hands squarely on her hips and looked smugly at him. “I want to know why you haven’t destroyed my planet yet. I know you’re planning to! Don’t think you can get away with it either, you asshole! Goku will come back. If he finds that his world has been destroyed, he’ll hunt you down and  _ spank _ you in battle. Guaranteed!” Bulma shrieked at him.

Vegeta ground his teeth at her loud voice. “Damn it, woman! It’s too bad wenches like you don’t come with built-in volume dials,” the prince snapped back, rubbing his ears. When he was done, he glanced at her with a curious look. “So… what was the question again?” he casually inquired.

_ “What are you planning?” _ Bulma yelled. Again, Vegeta winced.

“Enough! I will not have my eardrums abused in such an outrageous manner!” Vegeta shouted back at her. He had to admit he liked her spirit, but he could not tolerate her yelling at him. He decided it was time for him to split, so he spun around and stomped off through the trees.

“Don’t try to change the subject, monkey boy! And—Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Bulma yelled, brandishing a fist at him. She ran after him, stumbling over logs and debris.

“Away from you, as I can no longer tolerate your idiotic presence,” Vegeta snapped back over his shoulder as he plodded off farther into the forest. “You make far too much noise!”

“Wait!” Bulma cried. She sprinted after him and tripped over a rock, face-planting on the ground. Fortunately, the earth was soft. “Mmph,” she mumbled into the dirt. When she pushed herself up, she found that Vegeta was standing over her with a quizzical expression on his face. “What?”

“I seriously fail to comprehend how you humans have managed to survive on this planet,” the saiyan stated simply, tearing another bite out of the tyrannosaur rib. He chewed and swallowed, chucking the bare bone over his shoulder. Then he wiped his face with a filthy glove.

Bulma knitted her brow. “We survive because we’re smart,” she retorted. Vegeta stood silent for an extended moment and burst into laughter. “Shut up, Vegeta!” she yelled at him as he mocked her. Embarrassed, she stood up and brushed herself off to regain her dignity. It did not work well. Her command had only fueled his amusement further. Finally, she gave up and just waited for him to finish laughing. When he eventually calmed down, she spoke up again. “Finished?”

“I guess,” he chuckled.

_ Just be firm with him, Bulma, _ she told herself.  _ If you show you’re not afraid, he’ll hopefully learn some respect.  _ “Good!” Bulma spat. “Then follow me, jerkass.” She reached out to grab Vegeta by the wrist and drag him along, but then she observed just how grungy he was from living in the wilderness and thought better of it. She withdrew her hand and walked past him.

“I beg your pardon?” Vegeta asked, glaring.

“You heard me,” Bulma replied. “We’re going to Capsule Corp.” Her intuition told her he was not following. She stopped in her tracks, peering back at him with an expectant look. “Well? What do you want me to do? Roll out the red carpet for you?” she sarcastically snapped.

“What in the hell is Capsule Corp?” Vegeta retorted.

Bulma turned back to face him fully. “What do you  _ think _ it is? It’s where I live. Now, let’s go already! I would prefer to get home before dark. So shake a leg, you stubborn ass!”

Vegeta peered at her like she had grown a second head. “What? How dare you! Do I look stupid? I’m not going anywhere with you!” the prince snapped. “You’re not the boss of me!”

Bulma rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “Why? You scared?” She thought his eyes would bulge right out of their sockets when she said that. When he looked like he was about to make a vicious retort, she smirked. “Come on, Vegeta. I’m a small human female. What could I possibly do to you? Surely you don’t see me as a threat of some kind,” she suggested.

“Hmph!” Ignoring her teasing, Vegeta stomped back over to the dead tyrannosaur. He glared back at Bulma as she readily followed him like a duckling that had imprinted on the wrong animal. “What do you want to bring me home with you for?” Vegeta inquired, casually tearing another rib out of the animal’s flank. He leaned against the carcass for comfort as he ate.

Bulma scratched her chin, pretending to consider his words for a minute. Then she dropped the act and glared at him. “A bath, for one! You’re completely filthy from being out here for a week. Second, those teeth of yours need a thorough cleansing to rid them of the stench of rotting dino flesh. Third,” she began, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out an elbow-length rubber glove and yanked it on, letting it snap into place. Bulma pinched her nose with her other hand and strutted right up to Vegeta. He looked at her in surprise until she unexpectedly slapped the raw dinosaur meat out of his hand. “You need to eat some real food!” she finished in a nasal voice.

Vegeta jolted in surprise briefly and looked at Bulma with a perturbed expression on his face. He glanced back at the dinosaur. “This… this food is not… real?” he asked, confused.

“No, it’s not real!” Bulma snapped. “Now, come on. You’ve wasted enough of my time as it is.” Using her gloved hand, she boldly grabbed his wrist and began marching back to the clearing. “I ought to hose you down in the yard first, you’re so dirty!” The disoriented saiyan found himself dawdling along behind the human female, though he was still very confused about her intentions. When they arrived at the first clearing, Bulma clicked a capsule and threw it down on the sparse grass. It turned into a hovercycle and she got on, signaling him to mount the seat behind her.

“I can fly!” Vegeta charged. He crossed his arms, refusing to ride with her.

“Fine! Just keep up,” Bulma retorted, launching the vehicle up into the sky. The clearing was so narrow that she almost failed to avoid the tree canopy. Her thigh brushed past some leaves and branches. Fortunately, though, she was wearing long leather leggings. Moments later, she found herself gliding above the forest. Bulma glanced back to see if Vegeta was following her, but he was nowhere to be found. “Hurry up, trollface!” she called back toward the clearing.

“Who are you calling trollface, you blue-haired bimbo?” came a voice from beside her. She yelped and then turned toward Vegeta, who was hovering just three feet to her right.

“There you are. Come on,” Bulma said, ignoring him. She sped northwestward and he followed.

Hardly five minutes passed before he was complaining. “How freaking long is this going to take? Where is this Capsule Corp anyway? I’m hungry!” he declared in a demanding voice.

“You just ate!”

“Saiyan,” he quickly retorted. “Besides, you didn’t let me finish my meal!”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Right. It’s a few hours away, so hold your freaking horses. I promise you a meal fit for a king when we get there but not until  _ after _ you’ve had a bath!” she charged.

Vegeta licked his lips at the thought. “Well, you better be sure this meal does not fall short of my expectations or you will have a very displeased killer on your hands,” he said in warning.

Bulma gulped and snapped out her cell phone to call the house chef. She gave him very clear instructions on what and how much to prepare and when it was expected to be on the table. The man panicked over the phone. “How can I possibly prepare so much in so little time?”

“You can order delivery from gourmet places. It has to be a feast fit for a king,” she warned him.

“Gotcha,” replied the chef. They hung up.

Despite her promise, Vegeta bitched and moaned the entire trip. She tried to distract him with the lush scenery, but he did not care for passing landscapes. By the time they arrived at the Capsule Corporation compound, it was past dark and Bulma was about ready to tear her hair out.

A man in a suit greeted him as he entered, obviously trying to suppress the urge to gawk at the saiyan’s disheveled appearance. “Are you Prince Vegeta?” he inquired, gulping slightly. The warrior merely nodded. “Your bath is this way, sir,” the man offered, turning to go down the hall. “I hope you like bubbles and the smell of mint. The feast will be ready shortly.”

“Hey, Vegeta!” Bulma called after him. He glanced over his shoulder. “You better do a damn good job or I’ll throw you back in the bathwater and scrub you myself!” she warned. “And don’t forget to wash behind your ears! I mean it, I see one smudge after you’re done and no dinner!”

In response, Vegeta spun around and growled, but the butler placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’s just joking, sir. The young mistress has an aggressive sense of humor. Please, do come.”

Londrice’s words calmed the prince and he turned his back to Bulma with a “Hmph!” before following the butler inside. Bulma was about to follow as well, but her phone suddenly rang.

When Bulma was done with her phone call some minutes later, she went inside and found the house butler Londrice standing in the hall with a towel draped over his arm, waiting for Vegeta to finish his bath. “Mistress Bulma,” he said, giving her a nod. “How has your evening been?”

Bulma sighed loudly. “Only just bearable, Lon. Where’s Vegeta?”

“The bathroom. He was more docile than you led me to expect over the phone,” he replied.

“Don’t be surprised if it doesn’t last.”

Londrice hesitated and then nodded.

…

Five minutes later, Bulma was helping prepare the table when Vegeta stomped soaking wet into the dining room in the nude. His bits and pieces were luckily hidden behind the back of a fancy velvet chair. He shook himself off like a dog, causing water to splatter all over the room.

“Geez, Vegeta, are you some kind of animal?!” Bulma screamed in disbelief.

“Who stole my uniform?” the saiyan prince angrily demanded, glancing around at Bulma, Londrice, Mrs. Briefs, and the chef accusingly. “The thief had better pray for mercy!”

The chef looked to Mrs. Briefs, Mrs. Briefs looked to Bulma, and Bulma looked to Londrice. A sweat drop appeared on Londrice’s forehead. “I—I was having it cleaned for you, sir. I didn’t expect you to finish so quickly. The garments were rather tattered, though. P-perhaps you should shop for a new wardrobe? I can lend you something from my ow… then again,” Londrice began, observing his own tall stick-thin figure as compared to the saiyan’s short and stocky one. He turned worriedly to Bulma and whispered to her, _“I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit him.”_

“I can hear you,” Vegeta growled, arms crossed over his chest in a manner most petulant.

Bulma stepped in front, her face flushed as she gazed slightly to the side to avoid viewing the saiyan’s unclothed form. “S-sorry, Vegeta. It’s my fault. I forgot about it,” she said, thinking fast. She looked over to Mrs. Briefs. “Mom, does Dad have anything that’ll fit him?” she asked.

Mrs. Briefs came out of a trance and shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I-I’ll check, dear.” She scurried out of the room. Meanwhile, Londrice handed the fluffy white towel he had been carrying to Vegeta. Rather than covering himself with it, the saiyan used it to start squeezing the excess moisture out of his hair. Everyone waited where they stood in awkward silence until Mrs. Briefs reappeared four minutes later. Of course, standing in the room with a hot naked alien felt like an eternity to Bulma. Mrs. Briefs presented Vegeta with a pair of jeans and a white collared shirt. “Try these on, sweetie,” she said cheerfully. The ditzy blonde did not even notice the glare she received from Vegeta as she went back to placing silverware on the table, humming a tune.

Vegeta rolled his eyes and stuffed his legs into the pants. They were so tight around his muscular thighs that he almost tore them as he pulled them up. “Mph,” he said, struggling with the zipper.

Bulma had gone back to busying herself with the table, avoiding looking at the prince as he got dressed on the far side of the room. “Something wrong, Vegeta?” she inquired.

“I can hardly move in this thing.”

Bulma glanced over at him and saw the problem. The jeans were too small. “I think I need to take you shopping,” she remarked. Her eyes lit up. “Oh! How fun. I love shopping!”

Vegeta’s eyes widened in horror. “You mean in public?” he replied.

“Yup!”

“No fucking way! I refuse to go out amongst the Earthlings!” Vegeta decreed, brandishing a fist.

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Vegeta! Do you have to ruin my fun?” she replied, loving the idea of getting to play dress up with him as if he was some manner of toy doll. His only response was to glare at her. “Fine!” she snapped. “We’ll take your measurements and then we’ll order clothes online, stubborn ass. Satisfied? Pff, I don’t see what you’re so afraid of.”

Vegeta’s brows narrowed. “The Prince of All Saiyans fears nothing!”

“Then come shopping with me! Please, Vegeta! I’ll let you pick anything you want,” she cried.

Vegeta crossed his arms. “How am I to go out in the first place if I’ve nothing decent to wear?”

Bulma’s shoulders slumped. He had made an excellent point. “I know!” she declared as an idea came to mind. “I’ll order you some clothes online and then I can take you shopping after that. We can have the order sent overnight, but we’ll need to take some measurements first.”

Vegeta tried to walk across the room with stiff movements, grabbing the collared shirt. It was a lost cause, as the sleeves were far too small. “This is really uncomfortable.” He got caught in the garment like a Chinese finger trap and could not get out without tearing the thing in two.

“I see that. Mom?” Bulma called.

“I’m on it, hun!” Mrs. Briefs danced out of the room and returned with a tape measure, whisking Vegeta off to the living room to measure his body for just the right fit in clothing.

…

Bulma found Vegeta a sufficiently stretchy pair of off-white sweatpants to wear for the evening. It kept him satisfied as he scarfed down the delicious meal the house chef, as well as numerous restaurants all around West City, had prepared for his consumption. Once he was done, Bulma saw fit to bring up an important concern. She paused to observe the warrior for a moment as he finished up the fried rice. The man had a very aggressive appearance and overall demeanor. A simple glance from Vegeta could strike fear in the heart of any Capsule Corp employee, even if the prince was actively trying to behave himself. Bulma thought for a moment. _How am I going to prevent him from scaring away my employees?_ After another hesitation, she managed to think up a possibility. “Alright, Vegeta. While you’re living at Capsule Corp, please try to behave yourself. I know it will be difficult for you, but I won’t be able to convince my father to let you stay with us unless you swear not to harm anyone in the compound,” Bulma asserted.

Vegeta glared at her briefly. Bulma frowned until the prince followed up with a declaration. “No one will be harmed as long as my needs are provided for and I am not bothered or harassed in any way, especially by any insignificant human scum,” he replied. He wiped his face and stood up, pleased to find himself full and satisfied just as Bulma had promised. On top of that, the food at been the best he had eaten in a long time. It was a huge improvement over raw meat.

Bulma breathed a sigh of relief, but then something occurred to her. There were dozens of naïve young collegians working at Capsule Corp as interns. Any of them could quite easily make the mistake of crossing paths with Vegeta. A warning to stay away from the flame-haired man would probably just make them curious. “Oh, Bulma dear!” her mother chirped all of a sudden. “I have excellent news. Your father should be home in a few minutes. The group had unexpected success with the experiment in East City, so everyone’s heading home early to celebrate!”

Bulma was drinking milk as her mother said this and the white liquid came spewing out of her nostrils. Suddenly, the front door slammed. Vegeta curled a lip in disgust, but he had no time to say anything before Bulma snatched him by the wrist and dragged him out of the compound to the spaceship in the backyard. She slammed the button to open the door and shoved him inside. “Surely you want to train like Goku did under gravity, so here! It’s called a Gravitron, Vegeta.”

Vegeta immediately forgot all his objections as his eyes turned to saucers. Bulma grinned to herself. “Now, I’ve scheduled you a dental cleaning tomorrow. If you behave and let the dentist clean your teeth without a fuss, then I’ll show you how it works and it’ll be all yours. Consider it a welcoming gift. There is even a bed and bathroom downstairs, so you won’t need to come inside the house again tonight. Food’s in the fridge and you can order delivery on the phone.”

She jotted something on a sticky note and placed it by the phone. “That is my number if you need anything or experience a sudden urge to destroy something or someone. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Bulma set the Gravitron on quiet mode and went back into the compound. Vegeta did not protest to her disappearance as he was too starstruck by the equipment. To Bulma’s great relief, her father had gone straight to bed and not seen the remains of the saiyan-sized feast. Mrs. Briefs and the servants were cleaning up. Bulma called her mother over. “Mom, I was hoping you might not mention Vegeta to Dad. I would like to break the news myself,” she pled. Mrs. Briefs did not understand, but she smiled and nodded her agreement anyway. Finally, Bulma was able to get to bed. When she got there, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

…

Vegeta was completely stunned when Bulma abruptly disappeared from the Gravitron for the night. He felt like his mind had been thrown for a loop since the moment he had met her again in the wilderness. For the last few days, he had been puzzling over how Goku had managed to attain the level of a super saiyan. Now, he felt that he had just been presented with one of the keys to the man’s ascension. While thrilled to learn he would be able to train in the way Goku had, Vegeta was also worried. Why was Bulma doing all of this for him? He could not make any sense of her behavior, which he found very worrisome indeed. With the prince’s unfortunate life history, he had come to be very distrustful of people overall. The blue-haired woman had to be up to something. Why else would she offer room and board to an enemy who had previously tried to destroy her planet? “Get a grip, Vegeta,” he said to himself, shaking his head.

He walked around the Gravitron, examining all the buttons and dials. Some of it was similar to the design of a typical saiyan attack ball, but he knew it would be dangerous for him to try to turn on the gravity without knowing what he was doing. He shrugged to himself. It was too late to train anyway. He had been training in the wilderness since before the crack of dawn earlier that day. The saiyan prince yawned and rubbed his eyes, panning the room until he found the top of the ladder down to the lower level. As he climbed down the rungs, the lights automatically came on. When he was halfway down, he stopped and glanced around. There was a bed with white sheets and a closed door, which he could only assume led to the bathroom.

Once he had reached the floor, he looked back at the wall across from the bed and saw a series of strange devices. The largest one was a big black box with a glass side facing outwards. It had several buttons and dials on the lower right-hand side. Out of sheer curiosity, Vegeta pressed one of the buttons. Nothing happened. He pressed another. Again, nothing. When he pressed a button far to the left, the glass suddenly came to life and a moving image that was only two-dimensional in nature appeared. It was followed by a very sudden and very loud sound that caused Vegeta to nearly jump out of his sweatpants. His head impacted the ceiling, leaving a small dent. When he fell back down, he landed on his rear end in front of the screen and stared at it in fascination.

A two-dimensional man with a stick figure body and balloon head appeared behind the glass. He seemed to be made out of cut paper or some other flat material. Then he started to sing,  _ “ _ _ There are times when you get suckered in by drugs and alcohol and sex with women, m'kay, but it's when you do these things too much that you've become an addict and must get back in touch…” _

Before long, the funny character launched himself into a ridiculous song and dance routine involving a group of two-dimensional children. It was so absurd that, before long, Vegeta burst into laughter.  _ These Earthlings are fucking hilarious! _ he thought. He watched the whole show to the end and then wished there was more. Unfortunately, something boring came on next and he turned off the screen. “It must be some kind of two-dimensional transmission device,” the prince mused, examining the box. He was accustomed to such things in three-dimensional holographic images, but it seemed the technology on Earth lagged behind the rest of the universe.

He was too tired to look at the other devices, so he flopped down on the bed. The air temperature was somewhat cold like Bulma had said, so he crawled under the blankets and went to sleep.

…

**DECEMBER 29, 763**

Vegeta awoke early the next morning with a growling stomach. When he sat up in bed, he felt the cold and smelled the frosty scent in the air. Not knowing how to adjust the room temperature, he wrapped his blankets around himself and got out of bed. He went to inspect the other items in his living quarters, hoping to find the food that Bulma had said was in something called a ‘fridge.’ Not knowing what to look for, Vegeta figured it had to be large if it could hold enough food for a saiyan. The very largest appliance that he found was a huge white box. When he figured out how to open it up, he did indeed find a plentiful chilled food supply. His eyes widened at the sight just before he gathered as much as he could into his arms and brought it over to the table. After he had devoured everything, he tossed the blankets aside and started to do his morning exercises. It warmed him up enough that he no longer had to worry about the ambient temperature.

About two hours later, Vegeta had finished his morning routine and was starting to wonder what had happened to the blue-haired woman who had brought him here. He recalled her saying that she had a ‘number’ and went to investigate the piece of paper she had written it on. It was stuck next to a strange-looking device with numbers on it. Not wanting to bother with it, he decided to venture outside in search of the bossy female. She had to be inside the compound building by the Gravitron. When he opened his front door, he came face-to-face with the very individual he was seeking. Clad in a long stylish coat, Bulma jumped in surprise. Their breaths were visible in the external air. “Oh! Good morning, Vegeta. Your clothes arrived in the mail this morning, so I thought I would bring them over. I hope you haven’t been too…” she continued, walking past him and into the Gravity Room. “Oh my goodness, it is freezing in here!” she exclaimed, cutting herself off. She shuffled over to a small dial by the control panel, adjusting it with her fingers. “I’m sorry, Vegeta. I must’ve forgotten to turn up the heat. Why didn’t you call me?”

Vegeta raised a brow. “Call you?”

“Yes,” Bulma replied. “On the phone. You know how to use a phone, don’t you?”

Vegeta shook his head. He pointed toward the telephone. “Is that what that thing over there is?”

Bulma slapped her forehead at her own absentmindedness. Of course, Vegeta would be clueless about most of Earth’s culture and technology. He had never experienced any of it before. “Yes, Vegeta. That’s the phone. It’s a communication device kind of like a scouter, except it does not read power levels. I’m so sorry, I should have known you wouldn’t know how to use it. Were you at least able to find the fridge and get some breakfast?” she inquired, receiving a nod. “Oh, thank goodness! I feel so negligent. Anyway,” she continued, putting the boxes down on the console, “I brought your new clothes.” She opened the boxes and presented him with a pair of brown cargo pants, a dark blue flannel shirt, thick socks, winter boots, trunks, and a coat.

Vegeta walked over and examined everything as she laid it out for him to view. He picked up a pair of trunks, not knowing what it was. “What is this for?” he inquired, opening the waistband and looking inside through the leg holes. He tried to put it on his head, but then he took it off.

Again, Bulma slapped her forehead. “No, those are called trunks. You’re supposed to wear them under your clothes. They’re supposed to… um… well, these pants might be less comfortable without them. They are supposed to support your… Anyway, let me show you how to put them on,” Bulma awkwardly said, taking the gray trunks from Vegeta. She opened the waistband. “You put your legs down through the holes and pull it up to your waist. The seams should be on the inside and the logo should be on the back,” she explained, handing the trunks back to Vegeta. The saiyan blinked as he received the garment. Then he shrugged and dropped his sweatpants, ready to try on the new item. Bulma yelped and spun around just in time to avoid seeing his male parts. Her face flushed, but Vegeta did not seem to notice. “L-let me know when they’re on.”

A few moments later. “This is like a miniature bodysuit or something,” Vegeta remarked. Bulma glanced shyly over her shoulder, observing that he had them on properly. She breathed a sigh of relief. Modesty was apparently a foreign concept in the saiyan world, she surmised.

She turned back around and presented him with the cargo pants. “These should keep your legs warm while we’re out shopping,” she indicated. He took the pants from her and put them on. “And just so you know… um, when we’re at the mall, it’s important that you change inside of something called a fitting room. If you change out in public, it will attract people’s attention.”

“I don’t want to attract attention!” Vegeta blared.

Bulma appeared relieved by the outburst. “Oh, good!” she uttered, a sweat drop appearing on her forehead. “Then I’ll show you where the fitting rooms are when we get there,” she said, taking the button-down flannel shirt in hand. She unbuttoned it for him and showed him how to put it on. “This should keep you warm,” she noted, helping him straighten the shirt up and re-button it once he had it on. Next, she showed him how to put on the socks. He was able to figure out the boots by himself because they used a zipper instead of a confusing bundle of laces. Bulma was relieved that everything appeared to fit just fine and Vegeta did not seem uncomfortable in what to him was bizarre new clothing. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Mrs. Briefs poked her head in. “Mom!” Bulma chimed, waving her inside. “He’s ready. It’s almost time to go.”

“I see he’s all dressed now. Oh, Vegeta dear, you look so handsome,” Mrs. Briefs said, either not noticing or entirely ignoring the glare that she received from the compliment. “I’m ready. Oh, sweetums, I just wanted to let you know that your dad’s in the lab already, so the coast is clear.”

“Thanks, Mom!” Bulma got Vegeta to put his coat on and then she zipped it up for him. She took him by the wrist and led him out of the Gravitron toward her yellow Ferrari. “First, Vegeta, we’re going to get your teeth cleaned. Then we’re going shopping for a bigger wardrobe. The dentist’s office and the mall are all downtown, so let’s get going,” she decreed, walking past her mother.

Mrs. Briefs looked pleased as punch. “You’re going to like Dr. Violet, Vegeta. She’s so gentle.”

Vegeta froze in his tracks. Bulma felt him resist and she glanced back at him. “Doctor?” he said. “I’m not sick! I don’t need a doctor. I thought we were just getting my teeth cleaned.”

Bulma knitted her brows. “She’s not  _ that _ kind of doctor, Vegeta. Yes, all she’ll do is clean your teeth. No needles or anything. Geez, I would never have pegged you as being like Goku.”

Vegeta furrowed his brows. “I’m nothing like Kakarott! I do not fear doctors or needles.”

“Good!” Bulma retorted. “Then let’s go.”

Vegeta crossed his arms, but he followed her to the car and got in the back seat at her prompting nonetheless. He sat there in the car with a scowl on his face as Mrs. Briefs got in the passenger’s seat and Bulma in the driver’s. The prince glanced around before his eyes wandered to the back of Bulma’s head. “What is your name, blue-haired woman? I still don’t even know who you are,” Vegeta blurted as Bulma turned on the ignition. The car came to life with a whirring sound.

Bulma’s eyes popped open in surprise. She propped an arm on the back of her mother’s seat and peered back at Vegeta. “It’s Bulma. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” she replied, wanting to smack herself on the forehead yet again. “Sorry about that. I am the daughter of Dr. Briefs, the inventor of the famous DynoCap. I am a scientist and engineer just like my dad.”

Vegeta raised both brows. “You’re a scientist?”

Bulma smiled and nodded.  “I helped my father build the Gravitron you’re living in. It’s based on the spaceship that Goku landed on Earth in as a baby. My dad took it apart and studied it.”

Vegeta was speechless as Bulma pulled out of the driveway and glided down the street toward the inner city. How could a mere woman help to build such a complex contraption? He had met female scientists before, but none who were at that level of genius. Vegeta had a little difficulty accepting what Bulma told him, but he held his tongue in case she should prove him wrong later.

Instead, Vegeta looked out the window and watched as sidewalks, buildings, and people rushed by. Like every other foreign planet he had been to, everything was utterly mysterious to him at first glance. Most people were wearing coats. There were many street vendors trying to sell hats, scarves, and other cold weather garments, as well as food. The scent of sweet and sour mixed together in the brisk morning air. The saiyan flinched slightly when he heard Bulma’s mother’s voice. “So, Vegeta dear, you’re from Planet Vegeta like Goku? Is it true that Frieza destroyed it?”

Vegeta raised a brow. “Yes, a long time ago.”

“Oh, dear! How old were you? Were you even born yet?”

Vegeta scrunched up in his seat. “Yes, I was born. Why does it matter how old I was?”

Mrs. Briefs shrugged. “I’m just curious, dear. It all sounds awful!” Bulma was peeking over her shoulder, curious about the answer to her mother’s question. Vegeta averted his gaze, pretending to be interested in a passing sculpture of an anthropomorphic dog-man. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject. I was just curious about your background. That’s all.” Vegeta immediately stiffened, but he bit his tongue to avoid saying anything. Mrs. Briefs turned to Bulma and redirected her attention to the traffic situation when the light changed to green. 

Ten minutes later, they were parked in an underground lot. Bulma encapsulated the vehicle and Vegeta followed her and her mother to a strange metal door. Inside was a tiny empty room with no other doors. Vegeta stood back, catching the women’s attention. “What is this? A trap of some kind?” the saiyan charged, moving around to get a better view of the interior without entering.

Bulma raised a brow. “No, Vegeta. This is just an elevator. It is going to bring us up to the tenth floor where Dr. Violet’s office is. Most people on Earth can’t fly, so we need these kinds of devices to get around,” she explained, going inside with her mother. She beckoned Vegeta to enter with a full arm motion. “Come on, Vegeta. I promise it’s not going to bite.”

Mrs. Briefs giggled. “Rather fortunate that no one else is here, huh?” she uttered to her daughter.

Vegeta slunk over to the elevator and stuck his head inside. “What are those buttons?”

“They bring us to the floor we want to go to,” Bulma replied, pressing one that had the number ten on it. Then she walked over to Vegeta and took him by the wrist, dragging him inside. The doors closed automatically behind them, causing Vegeta to jump slightly in bewilderment. He looked around and started touching the walls, examining every nook and cranny of the place.

“What’s that?” Vegeta asked, pointing to a framed document on the wall.

Bulma examined it. “That’s just the safety certificate. It means the elevator is safe to use.”

Vegeta flinched slightly when the elevator started to move suddenly. “Just relax, dear,” Mrs. Briefs gently told him. “There’s nothing here that’s dangerous. We’re just going upwards.”

“Hmph,” Vegeta replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I fear nothing!”

Mrs. Briefs giggled coquettishly and fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, I do love a brave man.”

“Yeah, yeah, Vegeta. We all know you’re a tough guy,” Bulma remarked, rolling her eyes. Nothing more was said until the elevator stopped and the door started to open. Vegeta moved to leave, but Bulma held him back. “This isn’t our floor yet. Just eight more to go,” she said.

When the doors opened, a black-haired woman and little girl with pigtails entered the elevator, making the space more cramped. Vegeta backed into a corner, feeling uncomfortable. Once the two were inside, the mother turned around to face the door as it closed behind them, but the little girl just stood there and looked up at the saiyan with curiosity in her big brown eyes. The prince felt a droplet of sweat trickle down his forehead as the child continued to stare. He averted his gaze quickly. When the elevator at last stopped and opened again, the woman took the little girl’s hand. “Come on, honey,” she said, trying to pull the child along. “Daddy’s waiting.”

The girl resisted and pointed straight at Vegeta. “Mommy, can I have the big twoll?”

Bulma could not help herself. She snorted and burst into laughter. Mrs. Briefs brought a hand up to her mouth. “Oh, my!” she uttered, sweat forming on her forehead at the awkward situation.

Vegeta turned to glare at Bulma and growled. He did not know what the girl had said exactly, but he got the sense that he was the butt of a joke of some kind. He did not like that in the least. The black-haired woman glanced back, raising a brow at him. She peered at Vegeta and then looked down at her daughter. “Sweetie, that’s a man. Come on, we’re going to be late. Sorry, sir,” she said. Embarrassed, she picked the girl up and trod out of the elevator, disappearing down a hall.

Bulma clapped a hand over her mouth.  _ “Sorry, Vegeta,” _ she murmured, her eyes watering. “I think that she wanted to take you home with her. I just thought it was cute, that’s all.”

Mrs. Briefs brought a handkerchief to her forehead as the doors closed. Soon, they were moving again and Vegeta continued to glare daggers at Bulma as if daring her to make another peep. The prince turned away angrily and muttered,  _ “Hmph. I hate brats,” _ below his breath.

A minute later, the elevator stopped moving again and the doors opened. “Come on. This is our floor,” Bulma announced, exiting. Mrs. Briefs followed her and Vegeta followed Mrs. Briefs. They walked down a long hall until they came to a nice door made of glass and wood. The prince peered through the glass and saw what looked like a window in a wall with a person on the other side of it. He raised a brow as they entered the waiting room, finding it filled with a series of chairs, a coffee table, and in one corner there were some brightly-colored toys and child-sized chairs. Fortunately for Vegeta, no one else was in the waiting room at the time. He glanced around at the walls, finding big posters with pictures of human teeth lining them. It grossed him out a little, but he did not say anything about it. Mrs. Briefs sat in one of the chairs.

Bulma strolled right up to the window and the woman on the other side slid the glass open. “We’re here to see Dr. Violet,” Bulma told her. “I made an eleven o’clock appointment.”

The woman looked at a clipboard. “Ms. Briefs?” she asked. Bulma nodded. “We can take you back now,” she said, glancing at Vegeta. “Is he the patient today?” Again, Bulma nodded. “Okay, Dr. Violet is working on another patient right now, but she’ll be over shortly. Let’s go get him set up.” The woman, who was wearing a white coat, came around her desk and opened a door.

Once again, Vegeta felt Bulma’s hand close around his wrist and he was whisked away down a short hall. When they passed by one open door, Vegeta spotted a man lying on a recliner with a white bib on his chest. A woman in a white coat and face mask had her fingers buried deep in his mouth. Vegeta stopped very suddenly and stared, causing Bulma to stop as well and glance back at him. “What in the hell is that woman doing to that man?” Vegeta blurted, pointing. It did not look comfortable at all. In fact, it looked like some kind of surgery from the prince’s perspective.

The dentist and male patient stopped and stared at Vegeta and Bulma with confusion written all over their faces. Bulma flushed, snatched Vegeta’s wrist again, and dragged him away. “It’s okay, Vegeta. She’s just cleaning his teeth. It’s what you’re here for, remember?” she reminded him.

Vegeta’s face looked totally horrified. “ _ That’s _ how you clean teeth around here?!” he blared.

Bulma shushed him. “It’s okay, Vegeta. It’s not going to hurt,” she said in a low voice. “If you feel any pain at all, the doctor will be more than pleased to give you a topical numbing agent.”

“I’m not afraid of pain, Bumma! I thought she was going to give me a mouth slug to take home. Why does she have to put her hands in my mouth to clean my teeth? A mouth slug is much more efficient and less invasive than such primitive methods!” demanded the stumped saiyan.

Bulma slapped her forehead. “Okay. First of all, Vegeta, my name is B-U-L-M-A Bul-ma, not Bumma. Second of all, while I have no idea what a mouth slug is, I’m pretty sure we don’t have those here. Sorry, but I guess we’re more primitive than what you’re accustomed to.”

Vegeta growled in his throat. “Well, how long is this going to take? I don’t want grubby hands in my mouth! That’s just disgusting. No one has ever put their hands in my mouth before.”

The young genius sighed. “Fifteen to twenty minutes tops. A simple cleaning doesn’t take that long. And the doctor is very conscientious about germs. She will wash her hands thoroughly and wear gloves. Earth methods may be inefficient, but unclean they are not,” she argued.

Vegeta groaned. “I thought this was going to be a quick in-and-out thing. A mouth slug takes seconds, not minutes!” he bellyached as Bulma took his hand and led him into the exam room.

“Well, you can have ice cream after this and anything you want from the mall,” Bulma replied, pushing the reluctant prince down onto the patient chair. “I don’t know about you, but I think that’s a pretty good deal. Now, try not to make too much of a fuss when Dr. Violet comes in.”

Vegeta folded his arms over his chest and averted his gaze from her, looking as grumpy as ever. “ _ And _ you’re going to show me how to operate your Gravitron invention, correct?” he added.

“Of course.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Vegeta, so he sat there and waited, fidgeting every now and again.


	2. Culture Shock

**Dragon Ball Z: A New Beginning**

Chapter 2: Culture Shock

Before long, Bulma herself got bored waiting for the doctor to come in. She picked up a remote control. “Let’s see what’s on TV. Fortunately, they have one to keep restless kids distracted,” she began, only to be interrupted when a young dental assistant entered the examination room.

“Hello, Ms. Briefs. I’m Scarlet and I’ll be assisting today. Who is the patient? What’s his name?” she inquired, strolling to the medical computer cart. She started typing. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Vegeta raised a brow at the foreign term. He got even more curious when he saw Bulma flush in response to the last question. “Eh, no. He’s not my boyfriend. And his name is Vegeta.”

“Last name?” Scarlet asked.

Bulma glanced at Vegeta. “Do you have a last name, Vegeta?”

“The hell is a last name?”

“No, ma’am. He doesn’t have a last name,” Bulma said to the dental assistant.

Scarlet chuckled. “A mononym, I take it? Don’t worry, it’s not unheard of. I’ll just put Vegeta in the last name space and it’ll show up in the system. Have you brought any medical records?”

Bulma shook her head. “He doesn’t have any.”

Scarlet raised a brow as she met eyes with Bulma. “No medical records?”

“Nope,” Bulma replied, shaking her head. “He’s not from around here.”

“Hm,” Scarlet said. “Vegeta, do you know if you’re allergic to anything?”

“Yeah,” Vegeta snapped in a grumpy voice. “Dumb questions.”

Scarlet chuckled. “You’re funny.” She did not seem to hear Vegeta growl in response as she went about preparing dental supplies for the cleaning. The woman turned on the overhead light, put a white bib over Vegeta’s chest (much to his displeasure), and gave him a tiny cup filled with some kind of minty-smelling fluid. “Swish for at least thirty seconds and then spit into the sink.”

When the woman retreated from the room, Vegeta peered at the small cup with a stumped look. Bulma came over. “She means pour it into your mouth and move it around for thirty seconds. Then spit it out into the sink there. But don’t swallow any of it. It’s not a beverage.”

“Oh,” Vegeta replied. He followed the instructions, pressing the back of his hand to his lips to keep any of the liquid from spurting out of his mouth. Then he counted to thirty in his head. The liquid burned the sides of his mouth slightly, so he spat the mouthwash into the sink as soon as he had finished. “That liquid tastes like your bathwater smells,” he said, scrunching his face.

“It’s mint, Vegeta. Londrice must’ve added a mint bath bomb to the water before you got in.”

“Hello, hello!” greeted a new feminine voice. Vegeta glanced over his shoulder and saw the same woman whom he had seen with another male patient walk into the room with a clipboard. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Briefs. I must say, the new patient got my attention earlier. Vegeta is his name? Hello, Vegeta. I’m Dr. Violet and I’ll be doing your cleaning today. So what toothpaste flavor do you prefer? I’ve got mint, vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, and marshmallow.”

Vegeta looked at her like she had grown a second head. “What are you talking about?”

Bulma laughed to avert the doctor’s attention. “Just give him vanilla. It’s pretty mild. I’m sure he’ll like it,” she decreed. “Sorry, Dr. Violet. He’s a foreigner and is unfamiliar with our ways here in West City. That’s why he doesn’t have a dental record of any kind.”

Dr. Violet sucked in a breath. “Well, now I’m a little afraid of what I might find in there.”

Vegeta raised a brow, but he did not say anything. Before long, Dr. Violet had pulled up a rolling chair. She reached back and suddenly the prince’s chair started to move. Vegeta jolted in surprise. “What the hell?” the saiyan cried, sitting up and bumping his head on the overhead light.

Looking worried, Bulma reached over the back of the chair and grabbed his shoulder, helping the doctor to push him back down. “It’s alright, Vegeta. She’s just getting you in position.”

“Sir, have you ever been to a dentist before in your life?” Dr. Violet asked point-blank.

Vegeta shook his head. “You mean someone who does what you do? No.”

Dr. Violent raised both eyebrows worriedly. “Well, do you have any pain in your mouth? Any toothaches, perhaps? Open your mouth and show me your teeth,” the doctor instructed. Vegeta shook his head and bared his teeth like an aggressive chimpanzee but did not move. “Oh, my goodness! What sharp teeth you have!” Dr. Violet remarked, taking a gander. She put on a mask, snapped on her gloves, and positioned the overhead light to get a better view. Vegeta winced at the light in his face and side-glanced at Dr. Violet. “Well, this is most irregular,” she said.

“What is it?” Bulma inquired, peering over her shoulder worriedly.

“These don’t look like ordinary human teeth by any stretch of the imagination,” the doctor replied. She used her gloved fingers to pull Vegeta’s lips back and feel around his gums. “I don’t get it. What are you? I mean no offense, sir. Your teeth are just very bizarre.”

A sweat drop formed on Bulma’s forehead. “Uh, huh. Maybe don’t worry about it so much. Just give them a good cleaning. Does he have any cavities or anything from what you can tell?”

Dr. Violet looked up at Bulma. “I don’t see any yet. Let me have a look,” she said, taking a tiny metal hook and a tiny mirror. “Open your mouth as wide as you can, Vegeta.” He did so and she immediately started scraping around his enamel. “Hm. Well, they are certainly dirty with tartar, but I oddly enough don’t see any cavities. They look remarkably healthy for someone who has never been in to see the dentist. Please tell me what your secret is, sir? Oh, my! What’s this?”

“What?” Bulma asked worriedly.

“Well, I’m looking at the gums and it almost looks like he has replacement teeth buried under his current teeth. I have never seen that in someone of his age. Normally, you only see that in babies and small children. But his teeth don’t look like baby teeth to me at all. They are adult sized.”

Bulma appeared fascinated. “Huh… interesting.”

“I wish I could get an X-ray, but I’m afraid there is no medical necessity.”

Bulma shrugged. “Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. Just get the tartar off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dr. Violet replied. She went to work scraping away at Vegeta’s teeth. It was an odd sensation to Vegeta, but it was not painful just as Bulma had said. After a while, she gave him another small cup of liquid and told him to swish and spit it into the sink. A lot of little white chunks of food particles came out along with the water. “That’s about half the work done. Lay back again, sir.” The dentist continued to poke and prod Vegeta’s mouth for a few more minutes and then she switched over to another small device that the prince could not hope to identify. It had bristles of some kind that she squeezed white paste onto before applying it to his mouth.

Vegeta’s reaction to the strong tickling sensation was immediate. He jumped out of the seat and scrambled away. “What… What was that?!” he cried in alarm, placing a hand to his tingling jaw.

Dr. Violet raised a brow at the unexpected reaction. “It’s just an electric toothbrush. It can tickle a little bit at first if you aren’t used to it. Do you use a manual at home?” she inquired.

“A manual?” Vegeta repeated.

“I don’t think he brushes his teeth,” Bulma remarked. “Vegeta, sit back down.”

Dr. Violet laughed. “That’s impossible. His teeth would be rotten if he never cleaned them.”

“Never said I never cleaned them,” Vegeta retorted, sitting down again. He realized he was going to have to try to restrain himself because the sensation was so strong. He did not want Bulma to think that he was a pansy who could not handle a simple brushing. “I used a mouth slug.”

“A mouth what?” the doctor asked.

Bulma laughed again to avert the doctor’s attention. “Ha, ha. Never mind that. Hurry up and finish so we can go shopping. It’s almost noon and we’re going to be hungry soon, I’m sure.”

“Yes, Ms. Briefs,” Dr. Violet replied, getting back to work. Vegeta gripped the armrests, unintentionally leaving handprints embedded in the metal. He could barely tolerate the sensation. At last, the dentist used some kind of thread to remove the junk between his teeth before he was given a clean bill of health. “All done,” she said, turning off the light and taking off her mask.

Bulma breathed a sigh of relief. “Alright, then. I’m going to go see the front desk about payment. Take your time,” Bulma said, taking her leave from the room. She had only stayed to make sure Vegeta behaved. Afterward, she went straight to the front desk and spoke to the woman on duty.

Vegeta could not wait to get up out of the reclining chair. He hopped up and immediately followed Bulma. “Wait!” the doctor cried, causing him to spin around. She took the white bib off of his chest. “That’s all. You’re done now. No eating or drinking for at least thirty minutes.”

Vegeta raised a brow, but he was too impatient to even ask why. Scowling as usual, he stomped out of the exam room and back to the waiting room where he found Mrs. Briefs reading a magazine. She put the reading material down when she saw him. “Oh, Vegeta dear, you’re done. I guess that means we get to go to the mall now. Oh, I can’t wait! There’s so much to do there.”

Meanwhile, Vegeta overheard the conversation between Bulma and the front desk lady. “That’ll be 16,700 zeni if you don’t have insurance. You’re paying all that in cash? Oh, my!”

“It’s nothing to me,” Bulma replied, handing over the cash. “Keep the change.” She twirled on a heel and strolled right to the exit. “Come on, Mom. Come on, Vegeta. We’re done.” As they trod down the hall, Bulma turned to Vegeta and said, “Now, if you don’t want to do that again, there will be no more eating of rotten meat. Okay, Vegeta? At least your breath is now tolerable.”

Vegeta just glared at her. “Hmph.”

…

After a short walk through downtown, Bulma, Vegeta, and Mrs. Briefs all arrived at the biggest mall in West City. “Okay, Vegeta. Now, this place is huge. Try not to wander off anywhere. If we get separated, we’ll have a hard time finding each other again because we… Hey, on that note, I should probably get you your own cell phone. Alright, it’s on the shopping list,” Bulma said to herself, pulling out a little note pad. She dictated to herself as she wrote the words ‘cell phone.’ Then she took Vegeta’s hand and pulled him in through the massive revolving doors.

Mrs. Briefs followed behind them. When they were inside, Vegeta saw that the place was huge and enormously crowded. Shop after shop lined the grand hallway and there were more than ten levels to choose from. There had to be thousands of people milling about the place from what Vegeta could see. All the stimulation immediately overwhelmed his senses and his eyes started to dart around in curiosity, attempting to take in all the sights at once. A little choo choo train with laughing children passed by in front of them on a miniature railroad track. A hot dog vendor with a funny accent was shouting to the passersby in an attempt to get more business. Men with arms full of shopping bags followed chattering women down the long halls. “Ooh, sweetie, there’s Urban Beat,” chimed Mrs. Briefs. “That would be the perfect place to find some street clothes.”

Bulma glanced back at Vegeta, who was staring at a place called Avery’s Arcade. “Why is it so noisy in there?” the prince inquired, spotting big machines with neon lights on the broad floor.

“It’s an arcade, Vegeta,” Bulma explained. “People go in there to play games. Of course, it’s going to be noisy. Come on, we’re going to get you some more street clothes at Urban Beat.” She pulled him and he dawdled along behind her, head turning this way and that to look at everything in the immediate vicinity. Numerous clothing stores lined the halls. There were places called Natural Bodyworks, Books Galore, Zeniland, Cherry’s Day Spa, Astro Music Shop, Myron’s Martial Arts, and so much more. Before long, Vegeta found himself entering the wide threshold of a store with tons of trendy Earth clothes. He poked at one shirt, finding the material to be soft.

Mrs. Briefs stepped back and took a good look at the prince. “Hm.”

“What’s your assessment, Mom?” Bulma asked.

The blonde woman scratched her chin. “Black, I think. Black, gray, dark blue, white, off-white, tan, maybe some varieties of brown. I would stay away from red and purple. Maroon might be alright. Orange, not so much. But his best colors are definitely black and blue,” she decreed.

Vegeta blinked, having no idea what they were talking about as they gazed at him. Bulma turned to one line of sleeveless white garments and thumbed through the options. “He could definitely use some tanks. Maybe a denim overshirt or two to go with them,” Bulma remarked. The genius collected a couple of the items that she deemed the appropriate size, one in white and one in dark gray. She slung them over Vegeta’s shoulder, much to his surprise. “Just hold onto those.”

Mrs. Briefs pulled a long-sleeve henley shirt with dark blue sleeves and a marled medium-blue body. “Ooh! I love this one,” she remarked. “It should be warm enough for winter, especially if we add a coat on top.” She wandered over to Vegeta and held the shirt up in front of his torso.

“Definitely!” Bulma agreed. “Is it the right size?”

Mrs. Briefs checked the tag. “Yup!” She tossed it on top of the tanks that hung over Vegeta’s shoulder, causing him to raise a brow as he glanced at it. “He’s got to try that one.”

Next, the women found a maroon sweatshirt, a black sweatshirt, a blue pullover, a long-sleeve black-and-white pullover, and a denim jacket. Vegeta watched in curiosity as they made their fashion assessments on his behalf. How they were making their decisions was a total mystery to him. “Time for pants!” Bulma declared. “Wait, no. Undies first. Mom, he needs more trunks.”

“That section is in the back,” Mrs. Briefs replied, leading them in said direction. When they got there, Vegeta saw a wall lined with transparent packets of some cloth-like material. The blonde woman looked through them and selected a medium-gray one. “I think this will do. It’s his size and there are ten pairs in all. That’s probably all that he needs for now,” she said.

Bulma grabbed the packet and tossed it to Vegeta, who easily caught it and stared at it with a stumped expression on his face. “Perfect. Time for trousers! I think he needs some jeans.”

“Oh, definitely,” Mrs. Briefs agreed. “I think he could also use some more cargo pants. Those look good on him. Drawstrings would be nice too. Maybe sweatpants for the cold weather.”

Bulma glanced at Vegeta, who was examining the garments they had given him with interest. “Hey, Vegeta, you don’t have to let us make all the decisions here. If you see something that you want, just let us know. Okay? Like I said, you can have anything you want at the mall.”

Vegeta peered around at all the clothing in the store. “Er… I don’t really know what to look for.”

Bulma blinked and then smiled. “Hey, don’t sweat it. Once you’ve been around long enough, you’ll get a sense of what’s fashionable,” she replied, standing up on her tiptoes to find the pant section. “Ah, trousers are over there. Come on, Vegeta. Let’s go have a look,” she said.

…

Forty minutes later, Vegeta’s stomach was growling. “I’m hungry!” he demanded as he walked with the Briefs women through the mall’s food court on their way to Mister Kick’s Sports World. Delicious scents wafted through the air, stirring his appetite. He peered around, licking his lips.

Bulma stopped and glanced down at her watch. “It is lunchtime,” she admitted, pulling out her shopping list. “Street clothes, shoes… All we have left is a cell phone and workout clothes. That isn’t too much. Let’s go ahead and make a lunch stop. Where do you two want to eat?”

“Somewhere that doesn’t take too damn long,” Vegeta decreed.

Mrs. Briefs pointed to one walk-in restaurant. “There’s an all-you-can-eat place.”

Bulma glanced at Vegeta and then back to the restaurant. “I don’t know, Mom. I don’t really want to run anyone out of business today. Maybe we should try Bertonelli’s and order at least ten of the giant pizzas. I’m sure Vegeta can eat at least that much,” the young genius construed.

“What are pizzas?” Vegeta asked, raising a brow.

Bulma smiled. “You’re about to find out. I think you’ll like them. Come on, let’s go.”

When they arrived at the front, a pretty young green-haired hostess greeted them. “Hello there and welcome to Bertonelli’s. Table for three?” she inquired, picking up three menus.

Bulma nodded. “Yes, please.”

They followed the hostess to a comfortable booth. Vegeta sat on one side and the Briefs women sat on another side. Then the green-haired woman handed them all their menus. Vegeta took his first and looked at it like he had no idea what it was for. “Your server will be along in a minute.”

The saiyan observed as the two human women opened their menus and looked inside, so he did the same and copied their actions. “Vegeta, you’re holding that upside down,” Bulma informed him. He raised a brow and turned it around as she scratched her head. “Uh, Vegeta, I have a question for you. Please don’t be offended if I’m wrong, but do you know how to read?”

Vegeta furrowed his brows angrily. “Of course, I know how to read! I just didn’t know that this was a book until I opened it!” the saiyan prince snapped back, brandishing a fist.

“Oh, I think someone’s a little hangry,” Mrs. Briefs giggled, turning to her daughter. “Tee hee! I learned that term on the internet the other day. Better call a server over ASAP, Bulma dear.”

Bulma raised her hand. “Hey, we need a waiter pronto!” she called toward the kitchen before turning her attention back to the saiyan. “Also, Vegeta, that’s not a book. It’s called a menu and it lists all the dishes they have here. This is a pizza place. As you can see, the pizza section is the longest. I think we should order ten of the West City Style pizzas. I’m sure you’ll like them. We can order more if you’re still hungry afterward,” she said, putting down her menu.

Vegeta closed his menu and put it down on the tabletop too. “Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he grunted, glancing out the window. His eyes panned the scenery until he spotted a strange medium-sized shop full of neon lights and a great variety of different items inside. He pointed to it. “What’s all that weird stuff in there?” he inquired, gaining Bulma and Mrs. Briefs’ attention.

Bulma craned her neck to see. “Oh, that’s Bobo’s Joke Shop. Kind of a vulgar place if you ask me. They sell supplies for practical jokes as well as costumes and some other weird stuff.”

“They also sell some naughty things in the grown-ups-only section,” Mrs. Briefs chimed, her face flushing slightly. “I wouldn’t recommend going back there unless you’re married and you’re looking to spice things up if you know what I mean. Overall, Bobo’s is kind of a whacky place.”

“You mean they sell spices? Like for cooking?” Vegeta asked.

Bulma snorted in laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Heh, sorry, Vegeta. That’s not what my mom meant. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s nothing you’d be interested in.”

“Good afternoon,” greeted a waitress. “My name is Avana and I’ll be your server today. Have you all decided what to order yet? We have a lovely octopus pizza pie as a special and also a lingonberry cheesecake for dessert if you’re interested. I’ll take your drink orders now too.”

“Ten giant West City Styles if you please, ma’am,” Bulma said. “And I’ll have some green tea.”

“I’ll have a green tea too,” Mrs. Briefs added.

Bulma turned her attention to the prince. “Vegeta, what would you like to drink? Is water fine?”

“Yes, water,” he replied.

Avana jotted down the order. “Are the majority of those pizzas to-go?” she inquired, observing that there were only three people present. “I can bring them packed up if you’d like.”

“No,” Bulma replied. “They’re for here.”

Avana’s eyes popped open. “Expecting more company? We can pull up more chairs and tables if you need them. Is this some kind of party?” she inquired, looking surprised and a bit stumped.

“No, ma’am,” Bulma said, not wanting to bother with an explanation for their enormous order. “Just bring us the ten pizzas, two green teas, and waters. Everything is for here.”

“O…kay,” the woman replied hesitantly. She turned around and went back to the kitchen.

Vegeta grunted. “Hmph. Nosy humans,” he uttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared out the window. The next shop that caught his eye was a toy store full of laughing children. Vegeta rolled his eyes.  _ More of those noisy brats. Earthlings overbreed, _ he thought.

…

A sweat drop formed on Bulma’s forehead as a crowd of gawkers started to gather outside the restaurant window to watch Vegeta eat. The saiyan prince did not even seem to notice as he devoured slice after slice of cheesy deliciousness. As Bulma had guessed, he did, in fact, turn out to like pizza very much indeed. All conversation ceased in the restaurant as diners became spectators. Mrs. Briefs ate her own pizza with a fork and knife. “Oh, what a healthy appetite,” she remarked. “Just like Son Goku and little Gohan. Next time we throw a party, we’re going to have to order more food. Don’t you think, dear?” she said to her genius daughter.

“Yeah, I think so,” Bulma replied, watching as Vegeta finished off the eighth giant pizza. “Hey, Vegeta, do you think you’re going to want more to eat or is ten pizzas enough for you?”

The saiyan swallowed a huge bite. “This is enough,” he uttered before tearing into a ninth pizza.

Bulma blinked in surprise.  _ Well, I’ll be damned, _ she thought to herself.  _ He does eat less than Goku. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised since they aren’t exactly the same size. _ “Are you going to have room for dessert? I thought we should get some ice cream cones after this.”

Vegeta raised a brow. He put another huge slice in his mouth and swallowed it. “What’s dessert?” the saiyan prince inquired between slices. Somehow, magically, he managed not to get anything on his face while he was eating. It was fairly surprising that he could eat just as fast as Goku, yet without being disgusting about it. Bulma was surprised that she had yet to lose her appetite.

“It’s a sweet treat we eat after the main meal. In this case, ice cream,” Bulma said.

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Mrs. Briefs chimed. “I’m going to have chocolate-vanilla swirl.”

Bulma turned her attention to the agape waitress standing a few feet away. “Miss, if you could go ahead and bring us the bill, that would be great. Hurry it up, okay?” Avana did not respond at first as she stared at Vegeta. Bulma had to snap her fingers to get the woman’s attention. “Miss?”

Avana jumped in surprise. “Y-yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.” She ran off.

Before long, they were once again strolling through the mall. First, they headed to  Mister Kick’s Sports World. As soon as they got there, the place was much bigger than almost every other store in the mall. Vegeta looked up and around, not sure what most of the stuff was for. “Alright, Vegeta,” Bulma declared. “Since you’re going to be using the Gravitron, I figure you need some workout clothes. Judging from the uniform I found you in, I’m guessing that you like spandex.”

“The hell is spandex?” Vegeta inquired.

Bulma waved him over to a line of clothes made of a peculiar fabric. “It’s a stretchy material.”

Vegeta came over and felt it. “How much can it stretch?”

“Not a lot, but it should be comfortable,” Bulma replied, taking a pair of navy blue shorts and stretching them out with her hands. “It’s got a limit. As long as you get the right size, though, it shouldn’t tear on you. Here, let’s get some of these so you can try them on,” she said, taking a few pairs in black, blue, white, and dark gray. “These are all the same size, so you only need to try on one.” She handed the items to Vegeta and wandered over to another section. “These long yoga pants should be good too for cooler weather. Who knows? When Goku comes back, he might want to spar with you. You can train outside together in the springtime,” she proposed.

Vegeta stiffened at the mention of his rival. “Right, whatever.”

Bulma selected a few pairs of yoga pants and matching exercise tanks. “Okay, this should do it. Just try on one pair of the yoga pants, one tank, and one pair of shorts,” she instructed, leading him over to the fitting rooms. She held the door open for him and he went inside. Then she closed it behind him. “Oh, and Vegeta, come out here when you have the new clothes on so Mom and I can see. My mom has a very good fashion sense,” Bulma called over the shut door.

Vegeta only grunted. Before long, he came out wearing nothing but a dark blue pair of spandex shorts. Bulma felt her heart quicken, especially when he turned around to peer at himself in the mirror. His ass and thighs were so perfectly well-defined that it was difficult not to grab, let alone stare. Mrs. Briefs flushed and giggled. Bulma had to shake herself to regain her senses. “Is it comfortable, Vegeta?” the young genius inquired, desperately hoping for a yes.

“It will do,” the prince replied, heading back inside. The next time, he came out wearing a matching blue tank and yoga pants. He looked at himself in the mirror again. “This will also do.”

“Great!” Bulma declared. “Now, get dressed again and we can go find a cell phone.”

“Then it’s time for ice cream!” Mrs. Briefs cheerily announced.

…

Their next destination was Circuit Shack, which sold cellular phones and other electronics. “How do these things work?” Vegeta inquired, picking up a white phone on display.

“Well, some of them are more complicated than others. That one you have there has way more features than just the phone part. I’m thinking we should start you off with something more simple since you’re unfamiliar with how phones work,” Bulma declared, picking up a black flip phone. “All this one does is talk and text. I think it would make a good beginner’s phone.”

“But how does it work?”

Bulma flipped the phone open. She pointed to the top of the phone and then the bottom. “This is the receiver and this is the speaker. You put your mouth on the speaker and hear through the receiver. To contact someone, you have to dial their number using this number pad here. If someone contacts you, the phone will ring or buzz. All you have to do is flip it open and put it to your ear. That’s how you answer it. It’s really quite simple,” she explained, handing it to Vegeta.

He took it. “So you just type in a number and then whoever you’re trying to contact will speak?”

“That’s the idea. But you’ll have to leave a message if they’re not available. To end the call, you just close the phone back up,” Bulma said. She turned to the desk and rang the bell for service.

Before long, a balding male employee emerged from the back of the shop, smiling when he saw the trio. “Customers! Hello, how can I help you three today?” he said in greeting.

Bulma took the black flip phone back from Vegeta. “I’d like to purchase this model.”

The man pulled up the glasses hanging around his neck and put them on, examining the phone. “That would be the FP500. We have just one left. I’ll go get you the box,” he offered, returning to the back room. Before long, the man had returned with a black cardboard box.

Vegeta took it and ripped it open, taking out the phone. “I must test it to ensure it works.”

“Vegeta, I’m sure it does work, but we have to activate it first. We can bring it back if it doesn’t work,” Bulma pointed out, handing the required amount of cash over to the employee.

The saiyan raised a brow. “Alright, fine,” he said. “How does one ‘activate’ such a thing?”

Bulma took the flip phone from him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll give it to you later when it’s all set up, okay? Let’s go get some ice cream,” she proposed, dropping the phone into her purse.

Vegeta had a curious look on his face and Mrs. Briefs jumped up and down in excitement. “Oh, I can hardly wait! Let’s go to Yum Yum’s Ice Cream Shop. It’s my favorite!” said the blonde.

Bulma turned to the saiyan. “Hey, Vegeta, did you like the flavor of Dr. Violet’s toothpaste?” she inquired, receiving a nod. “Great! We’ll start you with a vanilla soft serve then. Come, let’s go.”

Before long, the three were standing in a short line at an open-air shop in the middle of one of the mall aisles. A long glass container displayed innumerable flavors of ice cream. Mrs. Briefs pointed it out. “Oh, gelatos, one of my faves! Look, Vegeta dear, these are the different flavors of ice cream. As you can see, there’s quite a lot to choose from. Would you like to try samples?”

Vegeta blinked as he examined the different flavors, reading the labels. “What do you mean samples? Tasting each one would take all day. I want to get back to that Gravitron thing.”

“No need to overwhelm yourself, Vegeta,” Bulma chimed. “As I said, we will start you off with vanilla. Then, next time, perhaps you would like to try chocolate. Thereafter, you can move on to more exotic flavors.” When they got to the front of the line, Bulma ordered for herself as well as Vegeta. “One cookie dough and one vanilla soft-serve for my friend here,” she said.

The server was a handsome young man. “Certainly, miss.”

Bulma turned to Mrs. Briefs. “Do you still want chocolate-vanilla swirl, Mom?”

“Oh, yes! That sounds lovely,” replied the blonde.

“And one chocolate-vanilla swirl, please,” Bulma concluded.

“Coming right up,” declared the server.

Before long, Vegeta and Mrs. Briefs were handed their soft serves. Vegeta glanced at Mrs. Briefs as she licked the swirly stuff on top of the hard upside-down conical shell, blinking in curiosity. “Why is hers prettier than mine?” he demanded, pointing to Mrs. Briefs’ ice cream cone.

Bulma laughed as she paid. “It’s not how it looks, Vegeta. It’s how it tastes. Go on, try it,” she said. Vegeta snorted, glancing at the sweet treat with skepticism written all over his face. He brought the strange food item to his nose and sniffed it, shrugging. Then he licked the creamy white part. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he started sucking it down like there was no tomorrow. “Whoa, Vegeta, take it easy!” Bulma said as soon as she noticed what he was doing. “Slow down! If you aren’t careful, you’ll end up with an ice cream heada…” she began, only to be cut off when he dropped the cone and gripped his head like it was about to explode.

“Oh, dear!” Mrs. Briefs cried. “He’s got it bad!”

As soon as Vegeta started screaming, Bulma spun toward him, gripped the back of his neck, and pushed it down until he was bending all the way over. “Put your head upside down, Vegeta! Fast. It’ll make the pain stop when the blood rushes to your head,” she hurriedly told him. Within a few seconds, he stopped screaming and Bulma released the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Vegeta. I forgot to warn you to eat the ice cream slowly,” she said apologetically. “What you got there is called ‘brain freeze’ or an ‘ice cream headache.’ It can be pretty painful, as you see.”

_ “Ow,” _ Vegeta uttered below his breath as his torso went limp. He straightened up gradually and shook his head clear. As soon as he was erect again, Vegeta, Bulma, and Mrs. Briefs noticed that everyone within the vicinity was staring at them. The prince knitted his brows. “Buzz off, nosy humans!” he roared, causing some to yelp and hurry off as fast as their feet could carry them.

Bulma flushed and glanced back to the ice cream server. “Heh… never had ice cream before,” she explained, pointing a thumb at Vegeta. “Can we get another vanilla soft serve, please?”

The agape employee nodded and prepared another cone. Bulma tried to pay for it, but he refused. “No charge,” he replied, handing it to her. “We replace a cone for free if it gets dropped.”

Bulma smiled. “Thank you!” she replied, handing the cone to Vegeta. “Slowly now, Vegeta.”

The saiyan warily took the ice cream cone and started licking it like he saw Mrs. Briefs doing. The server came around to clean up the spilled ice cream as Bulma beckoned Vegeta and her mother over to a circular table with three chairs. Vegeta sat facing the ice cream shop and Mrs. Briefs giggled. “Oh, Bulma dear, today has been so much fun. Maybe next weekend we can take our new gentleman friend to Dream Land. If you’ve got a sweet tooth, Vegeta, I think you’ll love the funnel cakes and cotton candy and other tasty things they’ve got there. It’s such a fun place.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s not a bad idea,” Bulma replied.

As Bulma and Mrs. Briefs continued to converse, Vegeta silently ate his ice cream. He copied the women’s actions of munching the cone after the cream inside was all eaten up. Once they were done, they left the mall and walked back up the street from whence they had come that morning to show Vegeta the sights. As they trudged along, both Briefs women were taken aback when a small group of tattooed young men trod by cussing up a storm. One with a shaved head bumped into Vegeta very purposefully. “Geez, dude, take it easy on the hairspray, a’ight?” he derided.

“Hey, that’s rude!” Bulma snapped back at them.

Vegeta stopped and stared at the group with a raised brow as if they were escapees from a mental asylum. He turned his attention to Bulma. “What the fuck is hairspray?” he asked.

The males burst into laughter. “As if you don’t know, spike. You must go through five cans each morning,” remarked another with long red hair and a bandanna wrapped around his head.

Bulma and Mrs. Briefs gulped. “Uh, oh…” they uttered in unison, glancing back at Vegeta with fear written all over their faces. Yet, somehow, the prince continued to look stumped as if he had no idea what the Earthlings were talking about. He seemed to have no clue that he was even being insulted. Bulma breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a hold of his arm. “Come on, Vegeta. All they’re saying is that they think you’re very fashionable,” she remarked, pulling him along to get away from the punks. She glanced back and waved to the group. “Thanks, guys!”

Mrs. Briefs rushed along after her daughter and the saiyan. The trio quickly rounded a corner, losing sight of the delinquents. Vegeta was totally confused. “F-fashionable?” he uttered.

Bulma nodded. “Yes, very fashionable.” Ironically, spiked hair was actually pretty trendy in West City. Bulma could only assume the punks thought that Vegeta had gone overboard and was being pretentious, having no idea that his hair defied gravity all by itself without chemical assistance.

Vegeta was about to withdraw his arm from Bulma’s grip when suddenly something or someone grabbed a hold of his hair from behind, causing him and the ladies he was with to halt dead in their tracks. “Hold on a minute, cactus head! We ain’t done with you yet!” a man growled.

Vegeta pivoted his head around to find that the person holding his hair was the bald one, not the one who had spoken. The skinhead had a stumped look on his face as he brought his other hand to feel the tips of Vegeta’s spikes. “Hey, wait a minute, dude. This guy’s hair is soft. For fuck’s sake, what kind of hairspray is this? I’ve never felt anything like it before,” the man blurted.

“How  _ dare _ you touch the Prince of All Saiyans!” Vegeta roared, powering up.

Bulma felt her heart drop in her chest. In a last-ditch attempt to end the confrontation, she ran over and slapped the skinhead in the face. “Hands off!” she yelled at him. But the man released Vegeta’s hair and grabbed her wrist instead with a painful grip. “Ow! Let go of me!”

“Bitch!” the man spat in her face, yanking her toward him.

Vegeta grabbed the wrist of the hand that was holding Bulma’s and punched the man in the face, forcing him to release his grip on the blue-haired woman. “Who’s the bitch now, bitch?”

The other men’s faces turned blue when their bald friend teetered on his feet and then collapsed on the pavement with a bloodied nose. “Hey, no brawlin’!” shouted the voice of a police officer from the other end of the sidewalk. He came running toward them, waving his baton in the air.

Bulma grabbed Vegeta’s arm to show she was with him. “Help! These punks tried to attack us!” Her mother shrank behind Vegeta, peeking over his shoulder as the small gang started to scatter.

The delinquents ran off in the opposite direction as the policeman, leaving their KO’d friend behind. The cop screeched to a halt when he reached the unconscious bald man. He looked up at Vegeta and panned between him and Bulma. “He’s with you?” he asked, pointing to the prince.

“Yes, sir. Look what that bad man did to my wrist!” Bulma blared, showing him the reddened area. Then she pointed at the unconscious bloodied man just as he started to rouse, groaning.

Vegeta glared down at the skinhead and sneered. “What a pussy.” He turned to Bulma. “Can we leave now? This is boring. I want to go train in the Gravitron already!” he demanded.

The cop started cuffing the criminal. “Thank you for the help in apprehending these gangsters. They’ve been a thorn in my side for who knows how long,” the man said to the trio.

“Thank you too, officer,” Bulma replied. “Come on, Mom. Come on, Vegeta. Let’s leave.”

Bulma took Vegeta’s hand and led him toward a side street to decapsulate her car. A timid Mrs. Briefs followed them. As they walked, Vegeta turned his attention to Bulma again. “So what is this hairspray stuff? Is it edible?” Vegeta inquired in a manner most random.

Bulma peered back at him over her shoulder. “No, it’s not edible. Don’t worry about it, Vegeta. It’s nothing you would ever need. I mean, I’ve used it before. But it’s kind of toxic, so I tend to avoid it,” she expressed. “Anyway, so how did you like our little trip today? You did not seem overly grouchy, so I can only assume you weren’t too bored for the majority of it.”

“It was… interesting,” Vegeta slowly admitted. “I mean, the part with the tooth cleaner lady was boring, but the part in the giant building was okay. It was a bit noisy, though. No offense, but you Earthlings make too many offspring. I mean, they were  _ everywhere _ . It was kind of annoying.”

Bulma snorted. “Well, I don’t have any kids myself, so you can’t blame me for that.”

Vegeta snorted. Soon enough, they reached the side street. Bulma took the capsule out of her pocket, clicked the end, and tossed it. Mrs. Briefs got in the passenger’s side as Bulma and Vegeta took their places in the front and back, respectively. “Well, I thought that was quite enjoyable,” Mrs. Briefs chirped. “We might have to take him shopping again in the spring since he doesn’t have any street clothes for summer. Oh, I can’t wait! Let’s get on home now.”

…

When they approached Capsule Corp, Bulma was very careful to drive around the back in case her father might be looking out a window. Heaven forbid he should see them before she could explain to him why Vegeta was there. When they got out of the car, Bulma tossed Vegeta a DynoCap. “There’s your stuff, Vegeta. Just click the button and give it a toss. It’ll open into that suitcase that we put all your new clothes in. You can keep them in the dresser in the Gravitron if you’d like. I also put your new toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss in there as well. Why don’t you go get settled? I’m going to go set up your cell phone and then I will be back over real soon to show you how to work the gravity machine,” the blue-haired genius graciously offered.

Even though he was feeling a little impatient, Vegeta nodded his agreement before heading back to the Gravitron by himself. About thirty minutes later, Bulma returned with his new cell phone in hand. “Okay, Vegeta,” she began as soon as she entered the ship. “It’s time for a little lesson on Earth technology. First, I’ll show you how telephones work. It’s not complicated at all.”

She walked him through the steps of dialing a phone number, answering a call, and also showed him how to store phone numbers in his contacts folder. She put her own number in there under ‘Bulma’ and then handed the phone back to Vegeta. He test-called her, which turned out to be a successful venture, and then put the cell away in one of his oversized pant pockets. Finally, and to Vegeta’s immense pleasure, she showed him how to turn on the Gravitron, adjust the gravity, and use some of the other electronic training equipment. The moment she finished explaining, he reached in his pocket, took out the DynoCap, clicked the tab, and tossed it. It opened into his suitcase of clothing. He immediately began to disrobe, intent on getting dressed into his brand new exercise clothes. Bulma averted her visage. “Well,” she said awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be in the compound as usual. Um, have fun.”

“Oh,” Vegeta obligingly replied, “I assuredly will.”

A sweat drop formed on Bulma’s forehead while she dashed for the exit. As she walked down the stairs to the grassy lawn, she shook her head.  _ I really ought to explain to him that it’s not socially encouraged to disrobe in front of the opposite sex around here, _ she thought, blushing.  _ One of these days I’m going to be too tempted to look. What a disaster that could be… especially if Yamcha should find out. Anyway, I better go on and get back to work on my Psychotron. _

…

All Vegeta could do to prevent himself from jumping up and down in excitement was to quickly turn on the machine to ten times Earth’s gravity. “Ah, just like home,” he said aloud, stretching. Soon enough, he found it was a little too easy doing his exercises in such an environment. He turned up the gravity to twenty times. It was just right. Challenging but not too challenging.  _ To think that Kakarott trained himself up to ten times the gravity of Planet Vegeta in only six days… I must do so in no more time than it took him. For all I know, he’s out there somewhere in space perfecting his skills. I can’t let him get any more ahead of me than he already is, _ Vegeta mused.


End file.
